Lockwood
was coming home, and what help the clergyman left in charge of his duty
could give to him. Tim brought his father's donkey for him to ride, and
went with him across the uplands. The hard frosts and the snow were
over, for it was past the middle of March; but the house at Fern's
Hollow remained in precisely the same state as when little Nan died; not
a stroke of work had been done at it, and a profound silence brooded
over the place. Perhaps the master had lost all pleasure in his
ill-gotten possession!
So changed was Stephen, though Danesford looked exactly the same, so
tall had he grown during his illness, and so white was his formerly
brown face, that the big boy who had shown him the way to the rectory
did not know him again in the least. Probably Mr. Lockwood and his
daughter would not have recognised him; but they were still lingering in
a warmer climate, until the east winds had quite finished their course.
The strange clergyman, however, was exceedingly kind to both the boys,
and promised to send a full and faithful account to Mr. Lockwood of all
the circumstances they narrated to him; for Tim told of many things
which Stephen passed over.
Pages:
121
122
123
124
125
126
127
128
129
130
131
132
133
134
135
136
137
138
139
140
141
142
143
144
145